The First of His Kind
by Riddle.Me.Harry
Summary: Harry never wondered how vampires came into existence until he became one after his battle with the Basilisk. His transformation into a unique blend of both wizard and vampire opens his eyes to the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore and he decides to fight back. HP/TR SLASH
1. The Change

A few things:

I was thinking about where the first vampire came from and then this crazy idea popped into my mind that I thought could have plausibly explained it. If you like it I'll continue.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle (once Harry ages a few more years).

Which is slash – or guy on guy. Please don't make yourself look bad and begin to read only to _suddenly_ find out it's something that you are "morally" against and feel the need to tell me that I am sick and going to hell.

Plot: Harry never wondered how vampires came into existence until he became a vampire hybrid after his battle with the Basilisk. His transformation into a unique blend of both wizard and vampire opens his eyes to the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore and he decides to fight back.

No sparkly vampires and will feature a darker Harry.

 **Here is a disclaimer that unfortunately states that I do not own anything that I am writing about and am merely hoping to play in another author's sandbox for a short time and what follows is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

The pain was excruciating and nearly all consuming. It was worse than anything Harry had ever felt before, and that included his run-in with Professor Quirrell at the end of last year. Not even the piercing eruption that his scar had endured upon the physical contact with the disguised Lord Voldemort could compare to this.

The Basilisk's venom was something else altogether and Harry instantly felt like molten lava was flowing through his arm.

It had only been seconds since he had pierced the skull of the Basilisk with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, causing the great beast's heart to contract for a final time.

The beast then began to tilt backwards and Harry was partially lifted up until the fang broke off from the Basilisk's jaw and Harry stumbled around on his shaky legs. The thunderous crash of the heavy serpent sent the already unsteady and progressively weakening Harry tumbling to the ground.

What little else that Harry's mind could focus on as his face lay pressed against the cool ground was fixated on the giant, poisonous fang now lodged in his arm. The razor sharp and nearly foot-long object had gone in one side of Harry's arm and the tip was sticking out the other side. And the blood that began to gush out was the least of his worries as the pain began to consume him fully.

For several more seconds there were no sounds in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle was shocked at what he had just witnessed while Harry's vision began to blur.

A small part of him, the part not focused on how bad the pain was becoming, knew that he was dying; however, Harry didn't want to die with any part of the beast still in him.

Gathering the last of his strength and straining to stand as his legs began to succumb to the venom, Harry infused everything he had left in order to yank out the fang from his arm.

He tossed the soon-to-be cause of his death to the side as the last of his strength left his legs and he fell to his knees. If anything, pulling the fang out seemed to make the searing and otherworldly burning sensation pulse outwards from his wound at a greater intensity.

The Basilisk venom hadn't even been in his system for thirty seconds before his insides felt like they were on fire and he accepted that death was likely not far off.

In fact, Harry wished that the process would just go quicker because he couldn't bear the feeling that he was being burned alive.

As if his prayers were being answered his vision began to fail him and he could feel his awareness slipping away, lessoning the pain.

'At least I won't have to listen to the dark chuckle of Tom Riddle for much longer,' Harry thought to himself as he embraced death.

But then he felt a brush of cold air against his burning flesh and the faintest bit of colors, the last to reach his eyes registered as blurs of oranges and reds.

In the next instant Harry felt a sudden coolness in the very depths of where the gigantic Basilisk fang had pierced the flesh on his arm. Within seconds, that crisp and refreshing sensation continued to spread throughout his body and battled the fire that had to be raging inside of him based on how every inch of his body felt like it resting on hot coals.

'What's happening to me now?' he wondered as his vision began to clear and his mind became less foggy.

Focusing his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that Tom Riddle was glaring at him and the next was that Dumbledore's bird was standing beside his once injured arm.

"Fawkes!"

The Phoenix replied in a strange call and then took to the air.

Harry watched the Phoenix fly off into the shadows and disappear all the while vaguely remembering something about the healing property of its tears.

'Of course,' he realized internally as to what the cooling sensation rapidly spreading throughout his body must mean.

While Harry decided that perhaps maybe he wasn't going to die right this instant, his attention returned to Tom.

The handsome but deadly boy had a most displeased look upon his face, and Harry then noticed that Tom still held the holly wand that he had taken from him. Tom was twirling it through fingers while making sure that the end pointed at Harry every so often.

Harry knew that Tom was only thinking about the perfect torture.

For a moment Harry began to think about his limited options.

It wasn't like he could hope to fight back without a wand. His fearful eyes began to search for a way out, anything that he could use in a last-ditch attempt to survive.

He moved to grab for the sword still lodged within the Basilisk's head when he caught sight of the fang and the diary.

At this point Harry would try anything to be rid of the other boy and without hesitating went with his gut feeling that destroying the diary would destroy Tom.

Unfortunately, or rather thankfully as he would come to find out in the future, the pain returned just as his hand closed around the foot-long tooth.

A searing sensation, somehow worse than before nearly knocked the wind out of Harry. It seemed to emanate from his core and he could feel it slowly spreading outwards. Whatever this sensation was, it had to be at least ten times the suffering that he had so recently endured.

Harry was on his hands and knees and couldn't hold back the scream that erupted from his throat. In the next moment his limbs began to spasm as what felt like unholy lava shot through his veins.

Harry's face slammed into the ground as his body collapsed and his arms and legs gave out. Tom watched curiously as Harry began to flail from side to side as if he were being held under the Cruciatus Curse.

Surely Tom had been meaning to subject the Boy Who Lived to something similar but even that curse didn't elicit _this_ much pain.

For one of the first times in his life Tom was at a loss for what he was witnessing. Hadn't the Phoenix's tears cured the boy from the Basilisk venom?

But what Harry was suffering from was so much more than the Basilisk venom, and it was all because it had been mixed with the tears of a Phoenix. Because what even Fawkes didn't, no, couldn't know was the effect of mixing two such powerfully potent substances that were equally balanced.

True, Phoenix tears could heal just about anything, except they couldn't cure this. However, that didn't mean that Fawkes' gift hadn't saved Harry's life.

The strength and magic of the tears had fused with the very essence of the venom to produce a delicate and eternal balance of healing and destruction.

The unholy union that was beginning to ravage every cell within Harry's body both perfected and killed everything that it came into contact with, leaving behind something that was simultaneously alive and dead. The one thing that prevented it from leaving Harry's body permanently unchanged was his magic. A not insignificant part of his magical ability would forever be lost to ensure that his body grew until he reached adulthood and came to control the full extent of his magic – and when that happened it would take even more of his magic to allow him to keep his warm blood and beating heart, forever remaining in the prime of his life.

But Harry didn't know that any of this was happening or would happen while he lay on the dank floor in the Chamber of Secrets, his body twitching uncontrollably.

Harry also didn't know that this new and potent substance had begun to affect the soul of Lord Voldemort that resided in his scar. Only, the piece of Lord Voldemort's inadvertent Horcrux didn't have enough magic to fight off the venom as Harry's magic had.

The mistaken Horcrux was defenseless as the combination of venom and Phoenix tears washed over it and permanently fused it to Harry for all time.

It was at this same moment when Tom Riddle now had an immortal Horcrux that something unexpected happened.

The same venom that was currently ravaging Harry's body and had also bound the inadvertent Horcrux to Harry had also found a way to affect the remaining pieces of Voldemort's soul through whatever magic connected Horcruxes to both each other and to the original soul. Simply put: it healed them in a similar but distinct manner to its effects on Harry's body.

This time the Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears ensured that Tom's soul was first healed and then made to never split ever again.

Only, since the young Tom Riddle standing within the Chamber of Secrets possessed the largest fraction of the original Voldemort's soul since creating a Horcrux splits it in half each time, every other piece of Voldemort's soul – including the part that resided in the incorporeal form floating through a forest in Albania – was forced into the more whole and stronger vessel of Tom Riddle that stood only a few feet from Harry.

The change hit Tom just as quickly as it had hit Harry, so much so that he dropped Harry's wand as the memories and experiences of all the other pieces of his future self flew back into his body. As each bit of soul reconnected the venom worked to bind them so that they could never be separated ever again.

He could feel each unwanted addition and his mind struggled to resolve all of the strange scenes that flashed through his eyes. It was almost too much for Tom to take and he began to stumble towards the exit; his only thought was in getting away from Harry Potter as fast as he could in the hopes that whatever was happening to him would stop.

The only person to immediately benefit from the combination of Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears was Ginny Weasley. The young first year who had been moments away from death was no longer having her energy being siphoned off from a Horcrux. As each soul had rejoined with the one inside of Tom Riddle his physical presence was strengthened and the venom had then severed Tom's connection to the girl.

Still, it would take her several hours to recover from the amount of energy that she had lost, and then several more until both her and Harry were rescued.

However, by that time Tom Riddle would be unable to make another Horcrux and Harry would be a vampire-wizard hybrid that was essentially immortal. Of course, it would take each some time to discover just what the hell had happened to them, and longer still to realize that they would be forever tied to one another.

For Harry would be an immortal hybrid who housed the one surviving, but permanent, Horcrux of Tom Riddle.

And in time they would come to discover just how important that connection was as neither could truly live without the other.

* * *

 **Thoughts? I have a really solid idea for this in mind and was the reason for the posting. Hopefully I will have made you believe that what I have done is plausible – or at least you are willing to turn a blind eye to it – in the hopes that you give these two a chance.**


	2. The Awakening

**A/N:**

Glad to see a positive response! Made me write the next chapter sooner than i would have. My next posts should be TDLE and AOD.

Hope you enjoy!

 **Here is a disclaimer that unfortunately states that I do not own anything that I am writing about and am merely hoping to play in another author's sandbox for a short time and what follows is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

Three days later Harry's eyes suddenly fluttered open. He hadn't been sleeping but he hadn't been quite conscious either. To his mind it had been more of a haze in which his body felt like death but something had prevented him from achieving that sweet release into nothingness.

The first thing that he became aware of was where he was. He knew by the way the sunlight shaped the shadows on the opposite wall and from the many bedposts that he was in the hospital wing; he had woken up in this place often enough to have memorized every square inch of the layout.

And yet, when his eyes adjusted to the light in the room it was nothing like he remembered it being.

For one thing the colors on the wall were all wrong; there were more shades and variations to what he thought was supposed to be just a simple white. When he had last been in here to regrow his arm he had been so bored – and in a great deal of pain – that to pass the time he had counted every single white brick against the wall.

He had stared at the wall for so long that he would never forget that dull color. But his eyes now saw things in such detail that for a moment he focused on the slight stains and particles of dust that gave that boring white a completely different dimension.

'Dust… no… that can't be right,' he though to himself.

'No one can see individual dust particles.'

Harry shook his head.

But even as he thought that his eyes took in the rest of the room. His sight passed over the other empty beds and noted the extra detail that he had never noticed before.

Thinking that perhaps something was wrong with his vision Harry rubbed at his eyes. The bare contact of his skin against his eyelids made him realize that there was indeed something different: he wasn't wearing his glasses!

Immediately he searched for the black specs, and his hand grabbed for them when he spotted them on the bedside table.

Only from the moment he placed them on his head he was even more confused.

His vision went from being crystal clear to feeling like he was looking through something slightly foggy; however, after thinking for a moment he realized that what he was seeing now was still an improvement over what he was used to seeing with his glasses on.

It just didn't compare to the sharpness and clarity that he had experienced only moments before.

Harry's hands then reached up and slowly removed the frames from his face and his eyes instantly adjusted to that sharp view once more.

Shaking his head Harry placed the glasses to the side as he thought about what was happening.

It wasn't normal for him to wake up in the hospital this much better off than how he had entered…

"Tom!" Harry gasped silently.

He sat up straight in bed. His eyes were wide and they kept darting from side to side while the events that had preceded him waking up in the infirmary slowly came back to him.

How had he gotten here? Hadn't he died in the Chamber of Secrets?

But then the order of his thoughts straightened themselves out in his mind.

He remembered being bitten by the Basilisk, except that he lacked a scar on his arm when he looked down in the next instant.

'Fawkes.'

Harry was amazed at the power of Dumbledore's bird.

His next thoughts focused on the effects of the bird's tears and the horrible pain that had followed, twice in fact. He had been so sure that that was going to kill him. From there, the last thing he remembered was reaching for the fang to stab the diary and the sound of someone screaming.

Had that been him or Tom? He couldn't remember. What had _happened_ to the other boy?

No amount of focus could work out any clear memory of those last fateful seconds. The only thing that Harry was certain of was that he had failed Ginny. The poor girl had to have died.

'Ginny,' Harry whispered sadly in his mind.

Harry didn't like the thought that he had failed someone.

He wanted to feel angry with himself, to feel guilty that he had survived when she had not; only he couldn't.

Not when he knew that he had done everything in his power to save her. He, a second year, had entered into the Chamber of Secrets and killed a fifty foot long Basilisk with a sword. What more could he had done?

Looking back on that whole series of events Harry could hardly believe he had done it in the first place. Sure, Ginny was Ron's sister and he felt a sense of loyalty to the Weasley family to try and save her but from where he sat on the hospital bed it seemed like a ridiculous idea. Wouldn't it have been a far smarter thing to tell a teacher where the chamber was and what was down there? Rather, he should have told a more competent teacher than Lockhart.

Harry thought that saving Ginny under better circumstances would have had a far higher likelihood of success than the stunt he pulled.

At any rate, he was lucky to be alive and come out feeling this good.

Actually, after thinking about how his body felt in the present Harry realized that he had come out of this far, far better than how he had entered.

Aside from his ridiculously clear vision he felt strong. Like he just had this feeling on the inside that he could run for a very long time and not get tired.

In fact, just the thought of being active was enough to get him out of bed.

The feeling of his feet against the stone normally would have been uncomfortable because of the coldness of the castle, but his feet felt quite comfortable and warm. His whole body did, in fact.

Harry continued exploring this new awareness of his body, and the next thing he noticed was that his scar didn't feel anything at all.

Usually he had this dull ache that was always present, and over the years he had just gotten used to the slight headaches. Now, however, his mind felt totally and completely peaceful.

It was quite a new experience and Harry couldn't help the smile that slowly stretched across his face.

He may not have had any idea what was happening to him but it sure felt fantastic. It was almost like he felt invincible and that nothing could hurt him.

The feeling was such a stark contrast with how he had felt prior to waking up here. And his mind also felt clear – so much clearer in fact that a seemingly whole new world opened up within his mind. No longer did he feel like something was preventing him from making that final leap, that final connection between many of the thoughts inside his mind.

Furthermore, it was suddenly far easier to examine all of the evidence and work through all the myriad considerations to arrive at the most logical and probable conclusion. All the while having backups in place in case the first one didn't work out.

So again, as stood there, he thought back to the events that had led him to this moment. His mind was quick, so quick, to supply him with a probable cause that explained why he felt better than he ever had in his life.

"Could all of this be because of Fawkes?"

Harry's whisper to himself was yet another thing that had changed. His voice sounded much the same as it always did but better. Much like he had previously seen with his eyes and with his mind it was almost like everything that Harry Potter _was_ had collectively decided to become their best versions.

Harry didn't focus on his voice for too long, however.

It was far more important to figure out what had happened to him.

Because the healing properties of the tears wouldn't have explained that awful burning sensation that had come back after they had neutralized the venom. "Hmm," he paused for a split second, "I wonder if it was the combination of both Basilisk venom and Phoenix Tears, then."

And just like he would find and appreciate in the years to come, his mind was able to pull up supporting evidence from his very first week of Potions.

Harry could picture the event as if it had happened yesterday, and he could almost hear Snape's voice telling him that sometimes the combination of two potent and magical ingredients could have effects that couldn't always be predicted.

In that moment, though, Harry didn't really care how any of this had happened, he was just thankful that it _had_ happened. From there he just hoped that this was permanent. It would be cruel to suddenly revert to his previous existence of always feeling like he was once step behind the curve.

Almost as soon as he had thought that his ears picked up the sound of shuffling footsteps in the distance.

Not wanting to draw further attention to himself – especially his newfound feeling of perfection – Harry quickly got back into bed and put his glasses on. In fact, he had returned to bed so quickly that it would have looked like a blur to anyone watching him, but his brain was much more concerned with not drawing attention to himself. Therefore, his awareness of yet another skill was shoved to the back of his mind to ensure that no one suspected anything abnormal about him.

It was almost second nature for him to keep things to himself. Hadn't he done that with the abuse that he had suffered from the Dursleys or with the knowledge of Tom Riddle and that Diary? Hell, he had even done that with the Basilisk upon learning of its existence from Hermione!

Surely then Harry would also keep this to himself until he had more time to think on this.

But as Harry sat there on his bed waiting for the footsteps to get closer he realized that his hearing too had somehow become better. Quite better in fact judging by how long it took Madam Pomfrey to make her way down the hall and into the infirmary.

"Ah, good Mister Potter, you're up. Was wondering how long you were going to be out for."

Harry had always liked the older woman. She was fair and had treated him well over the past two years. However, from the moment that she walked in the most delicious smell hit his nose. It was so tantalizing that Harry could feel his mouth start to pool with what he thought was saliva and this odd sensation began in the back of his throat.

Her next comment sounded like she had read his mind.

"I imagine you are quite hungry at the moment. Don't worry, I'll have something brought to you."

She set something down and turned to leave. Harry was practically starving at this point but his hunger calmed a few moments after she exited.

It was strange. One minute he had gone from feeling ravenous, more so than he ever had at the Dursleys, and the next he was nearly fine with a lingering thirst for food still present in the back of his throat.

Though, his mind didn't focus on that for too long since he was more interested in exploring the use of his increased hearing. Now that he was actively thinking about it he explored the range of his seemingly enhanced awareness of what his newfound capabilities were. He soon discovered that he was able to hear the birds chirping away in the trees far below and he even heard the squeaking of what had to be the mice that lived within the castle walls.

If this had been the only new development he might have focused longer on his new sensory abilities, but it hadn't been and Harry moved on to try and get his head around the flood of new odors that he now noticed that his nose was picking up.

All sorts of smells that were at once individual and also in combination with other aromas registered with his olfactory receptors, allowing Harry to discern that the smell of the hospital wing was much more nuanced and complex than he had ever realized. Much like how his new sight could see new details on the walls, so too could his nose pick up smells that he had never noticed before.

A hundred different potions and salves lingered on the air and his mind could make out each one of the common remedies that Madam Pomfrey so often prescribed to her patients.

Harry was nearly so focused on cataloguing all of the smells that he almost failed to hear the sound of returning footsteps down the corridor. Almost.

He still had more than enough time to finish what he was doing before she entered with his tray of food.

"Here now," she instructed, "you are to eat all of this and not just the sweet stuff as children are so often wont to do."

She set the try down in front of him and again that savory and mouth-watering smell overwhelmed his body.

Harry hungrily dove into the food only to be quite disappointed with how it tasted. His nose was still screaming at him that there was something else, so completely fantastic in this room that he wanted to eat instead.

Harry was at a loss for words and his formerly quick-thinking mind was failing him in this moment.

'What could my nose possibly be picking up that it wants me to eat instead?'

Harry focused on that thought for several moments as he force-fed himself under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye. Still, nothing came to him that made any sense. There was nothing else in this entire room that looked appetizing.

'It's only me and Madam Pomfrey…' Harry's thoughts suddenly trailed off as his eyes rose to focus on the older woman standing before him.

His eyes searched her to see if she had any other sort of food on her that would explain both his hunger and complete dissatisfaction with the horrible food in front of him. Roast chicken and potatoes with a side of broccoli and treacle tart just weren't doing it for him.

However, as Harry tried to focus his other senses to see if they could give him any indication as to where this delicious smell was coming from he noticed a faint beat that was growing stronger by the minute.

Indeed, only after a few seconds of noticing the steady pulse that sent shivers down his spine he realized that it was coming from inside Madam Pomfrey's chest.

Harry was so confused as to what was going on that for a second he was about to describe his symptoms to Madam Pomfrey. Only, as raised his head to look her in the eyes he caught sight of the pulsating artery in her throat.

The sight was mesmerizing to Harry and as his eyes traced the outline of her neck his hunger began to grow. He was swallowing more saliva than food down his throat when his mind finally put two and two together and realized that what he really desired in this moment was what was flowing through her arteries and veins.

Instantly Harry began to choke at that sudden revelation, as the food that had just been swallowed had followed the quick intake of air and had gone down the wrong way.

"Mister Potter," the woman commented as she moved towards him with concern written in both her voice and facial features.

Immediately though, Harry inched backwards. He may not have understood what in the hell was happening to him but he didn't want to tempt fate by having her any closer to him.

Therefore Harry held up his hand to say that he had this and after a few moments he had his breathing under control. Only he soon realized that not once had he felt the lack of oxygen that normally accompanied food going down his windpipe.

For a moment his mind fixated on not breathing in and it was then that Harry learned two very important things. The first was that by not inhaling anything, gone was the most delicious thing that he had ever smelled – which Harry was still horrified to think meant the blood that flowed through Madam Pomfrey.

The second, by Harry's measure, was even worse: because as the seconds ticked on and no tingle or sensation of needing oxygen was felt it soon became apparent that he didn't need to breathe.

Indeed, five minutes into his experiment and Harry's face had the most confused expression. So much so that Madam Pomfrey was concerned.

"Is everything all right, Mister Potter?"

Wanting her to just go away and give him time to process just what in the hell was happening to him he nodded his head and pretended to put more food into his mouth.

Pomfrey must have become convinced that he was indeed okay.

"Very well, eat that and I'll return in a moment to check up on you. I expect that you just drained yourself but no lasting harm was done," she declared confidently.

Harry heard what she had said and a small part of him was thankful that his brain had made note of both that and the fact that she had returned to her office.

After discovering that he didn't need to breath he had nearly had a panic attack but knew better than to check for a pulse with her standing there. That would have invited more questions than he wanted at the moment and even though he could feel a faint beat inside his chest he wanted to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.

Sure enough, after ten seconds of his right index and middle fingers on his throat he was convinced that he had a pulse that perhaps ran just a little faster than normal.

For a moment his desire and hunger for blood when combined with his lack of breathing almost convinced him that he was a vampire, but his strong pulse disproved that theory as his mind continued to search for a plausible explanation.

Harry sat there, forcing himself to chew and swallow everything on his plate while he contemplated his new existence. He may not know what had happened to him but as he sat there he slowly began to realize that just because he suddenly had an attraction to blood and that he no longer needed oxygen that didn't necessarily mean that anything truly horrible had happened to him.

Didn't he feel stronger now, more capable? Weren't his hearing, vision, and sense of smell a hundred times better than they had been before his encounter in the Chamber of Secrets? It wasn't like the food tasted all _that_ bad to be honest; it just didn't compare to what he imagined blood would feel like coating the back of his throat.

True, that last thought might have been a little weird but considering everything else that had happened to him, taking a liking to blood was hardly something to complain about considering all of the other positives lining up in his corner.

What he needed was more time to think everything through and find out just how his encounter with the Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears had changed him.

Unfortunately, at that moment Madam Pomfrey decided to return from her office and this time she wasn't alone. The one person that Harry would rather have not seen in this instance was the very person that was walking by her side.

Harry was a very private person and didn't like the thought of other people knowing what had happened to him before he had had a chance to work it out for himself, and the sight of Albus Dumbledore walking towards him suddenly caused his stomach to tighten up.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may have been someone that Harry had looked up to but he had never forgotten the discussion that he had had with the man in this very same room at the end of last year. It had left a bad taste in his mouth and he had subsequently felt like the man was withholding many important and personal things from him. And Harry didn't want this to be another one of those things.

However, at the same time a small little voice spoke up in the back of Harry's mind.

'Madam Pomfrey doesn't know anything is wrong – or at least her behavior didn't indicate that she knew anything was abnormal. Perhaps Dumbledore will think the same thing as long as you act normal. Just make it through this and then you will be able to work through this alone.'

Harry didn't know where that had come from but it calmed him down and he swallowed the last of his mediocre food just as Dumbledore approached his bed with Tom Riddle's unharmed diary in his hands.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought.**

 **Hopefully I will have made you believe that what I have done is plausible – or at least you are willing to turn a blind eye to it (*cough*Horcruxes*cough*)– in the hopes that you give these two a chance.**


	3. The First Hunt

**A/N:**

Thanks for the encouragement with this. I'm really open to suggestions and really just want to have fun with this.

 **Here is a disclaimer that unfortunately states that I do not own anything that I am writing about and am merely hoping to play in another author's sandbox for a short time and what follows is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

For a moment there was silence as Dumbledore looked down at Harry from the edge of the hospital bed. Tom Riddle's Horcruxless diary was cradled across his chest in his folded arms.

Using his newly advanced sight Harry could see the reflection of how he looked in Dumbledore's non-sparkly eyes: so different and perfect, nothing like the person who had gone into the chamber.

Certainly nothing like the boy he had been at the end of last year. His mind was so much more prepared for this interaction and his awareness had been awakened and heightened in ways he couldn't have perceived before.

He just needed to get through this conversation without Dumbledore being any the wiser that anything truly exceptional had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Thus, he put a great deal of effort into making sure that his own face didn't give anything away or invite further scrutiny than necessary.

Which meant that Harry also needed to exert some restraint as he allowed his breathing to continue as would have been normal since it would do no good for Dumbledore to question why Harry's chest did not contract and expand. Ever since his realization that the cessation of pulling air through his nose prohibited his overwhelming hunger for blood he had continued on to alleviate how uncomfortable not acting on that desire made him in Madam Pomfrey's presence.

Thankfully, Dumbledore did not smell appetizing in the least. The man's odor had a sickly undertone to it that reminded Harry of some of the questionable meat that Petunia had served him over the years.

Instead, Harry found that the attention he had earmarked into restraining his thirst for blood went instead to preventing his nose from scrunching up in disgust.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Harry.

"My dear boy," Dumbledore broke the silence.

"May I?" he indicated with his free hand pointed at the end of Harry's bed.

"Of course, Sir," Harry motioned with his hand as he sat up straighter.

Harry then put his tray of food on the bed stand next to him and gathered himself while Dumbledore sat down by his feet.

"I expect that you have many questions, and I hope that I can answer them. I, of course, have some questions myself about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets."

The man looked more serious than he usual did but he still had his grandfatherly persona.

Harry decided to go with a direct approach, remembering that the man had said something about expelling him at the beginning of the year if he broke another rule. In his mind, the events leading up to the chamber and what had happened within must have broken about a dozen rules.

"Am I in trouble, Headmaster?" Harry asked in a resigned manner.

"On the contrary, Harry, your actions have saved the life of a young girl that would otherwise have died. You showed tremendous bravery and courage and I want to thank you."

Harry's eyes widened and genuine relief flooded his face.

"Ginny's alive?!"

He honestly had not expected that given what his last memories were.

"I thought for sure that she had died… though, I don't really remember everything that happened down in the chamber."

He turned his focus back to Dumbledore.

"How is she?"

"She is fine, Harry, and left the hospital wing yesterday. You, however, took three days to recover."

Some of the sparkle had returned to Dumbledore's eyes.

"Young Ginevra was able to fill me in on some of the events that led up to three days ago but I am most interested in hearing about what happened down there."

Dumbledore smiled patiently at the boy.

"Three days, I've been here that long?"

Dumbledore nodded and some of his smile disappeared.

"Not at all surprising, in fact, considering that you faced a Basilisk and lived."

Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn't help but reach for the spot that had been pierced by the fang. The pain had been something that he would not forget any time soon, and it wasn't even the worse pain that he had experienced that day. Whatever change his body had gone through after that had been far, far worse.

It was a move that Dumbledore noticed, but wasn't _that_ surprised by either. Madam Pomfrey had told him that she had found trace amounts of Basilisk venom on his clothes.

"Why don't you tell me the whole story, Harry, and I will fill in what both Ginevra and Ronald have told me."

Harry nodded and began with how he had first heard the voice in the halls that no one else could here. Then he went into his discovery of being a Parselmouth and his interaction with the diary and how he learned about Hagrid and Aragog. He briefly glossed over the story of his and Ron's foray into the Forbidden Forest before ending with how Hermione had solved what Slytherin's Monster was that tied everything together.

"Very Well," Dumbledore had responded before indicating to Harry to continue.

"Then there was another message about her body lying in the chamber forever. I then had an epiphany of where the entrance was located in thinking that perhaps the girl who had died fifty years ago, Moaning Myrtle, never left the place _where_ she died. Ron and I went to _Professor_ Lockhart to tell him," Harry said with a little annoyance.

"We forced him to go into the Chamber since he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in hindsight we probably should have picked a different professor."

"Ron is okay, right? You mentioned before that you had spoken with him. We were separated after entering the passageway to the chamber because of a cave in caused by Lockhart."

An odd twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eyes, like he was most pleased with this part of the story.

"Fine, fine, Mr. Weasley is quite all right. Professor Lockhart on the other hand suffered from a taste of his own medicine, I'm afraid. It would appear that the man has been using Memory Charms to steal the stories of others for his books. When he went to cast one on Mr. Weasley and yourself with Mr. Weasley's damaged wand, well, let's just say it backfired and now Lockhart has no idea who he is."

It was really, really hard for Harry to be sympathetic about that.

"Oh," was all he was able to say before continuing.

"Then I went on alone and reached the chamber. Ginny was cold and unresponsive when I got there and there was another boy there with her. He was the same person from the diary, Tom Riddle, in fact."

With that Dumbledore's expression changed but Harry kept going before the man could interrupt him.

"He was most concerned with me, Headmaster. He said that originally he was interested in opening the chamber again and that with Ginny writing into his diary that he was able to control her mind for short periods and do so. However, he became interested in the Boy Who Lived after meeting me and changed his plans. I was confused at first until he told me that Lord Voldemort was his future self, and I guess I am still confused about that. How can that have been a younger version of Voldemort, Sir?"

Dumbledore sighed, and for the first time that Harry could recall the man looked just as old and tired as he smelled.

"Lord Voldemort was brilliant, Harry. Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student to have ever set foot in these halls."

There was a strange emotion in the man's voice that Harry could place; not even his quicker mind could place it.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle, and I am glad that you are now aware. I taught him myself fifty years ago as you saw in the diary. Upon his graduation from Hogwarts, he traveled far and wide and sank so deeply into the Dark Arts that by the time he resurfaced, years later, he was unrecognizable. Hardly anyone connected him with the handsome and charming Head Boy."

Harry didn't miss that Dumbledore hadn't actually answered his question about how Lord Voldemort's younger self had managed to almost completely take control of someone and become flesh again. Coupled with his unanswered question from the year before about why Voldemort had come after him in the first place and it was blatantly obvious that his illustrious Headmaster was withholding very important things from him.

With his advanced mental reasoning it was easy to see that the man had distracted him with other information. This only strengthened his resolve to not trust the man with how his body had changed if he could help it.

While Harry was privately debating just how deep Dumbledore's withholding of information went, the man placed the diary on the bed.

"I found this in the chamber when I went to collect young Ginevra and yourself; I assume this is the diary of which you speak?"

Harry nodded.

"I also happened to see the giant Basilisk, Harry. Would you mind filling me in on what happened down there? I daresay I never imagined to see just a thing and again am truly amazed at your bravery for not only facing the monster but defeating it."

Harry ignored the man's attempt to butter him up and finished his story.

"Tom said he would suck all of the energy out of Ginny and take human form again, and then purge the school himself. He called forth the Basilisk then, but luckily Fawkes arrived and from the shadows I could see that he pecked at the beast's eyes until it was blind. It didn't do anything about the snake's sense of smell but it gave me a fighting chance. Fawkes returned then with the Sorting Hat and I found a sword inside and was able to stab the beast through the mouth."

Harry paused briefly to take in the rare shock that had crossed the man's face.

"Of course, in doing so I managed to end up with one of its fangs lodged in my arm. I could feel the Basilisk venom immediately start to flush through my body. It felt like being burned alive, and I knew I was going to die; however, Fawkes again saved my life with his tears."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded his head.

"That answers several of my questions then. I wondered how the sword got down there and how you managed to heal yourself from the Basilisk venom that Madam Pomfrey found on you. Phoenixes are marvelous creatures, and that no doubt explains how well rested you look. Of course, three days in here will do that to you as well."

Harry didn't have to fake his response this time and nodded profusely in agreement; he was more than grateful that Fawkes had saved his life. And even more grateful that Dumbledore hadn't reacted to hearing about the combination of venom and tears and had appeared to take it at face value – even perhaps thinking that the tears somehow explained his better-than-before complexion. Of course, Harry couldn't be certain considering how Dumbledore liked to withhold things but Harry hadn't noticed anything change with the man's expression during the exchange.

And he had been using his new sight to look very closely.

"What happened next, Harry?"

"Honestly, Headmaster, I am a little unsure. I remember passing out after being healed. I remember reaching for the Basilisk fang to stab the diary with it and then I heard screaming but it all becomes fuzzy after that."

That was generally what Harry had remembered; he just left out the part about the agony that he had been in and he honestly didn't remember being the one doing the screaming. He had just assumed it came from Tom.

"Do you think that because Ginny is okay it means that Tom never became flesh?"

At this Dumbledore's face did give away something; nothing could hide from his new eyesight and his ears distinctly heard the man's heart beat become more rapid. It told Harry that the man was unsure of this and perhaps was one of the things that he was hoping that Harry would be able to remember.

"I think that would be a fair assumption," Dumbledore began to say. "I just wish I knew for certain. I can't detect anything odd about this diary now that would indicate it was anything other than a diary."

So did that mean that there was a chance that Tom was still out there? It didn't bother Harry as much as he thought it would. For one thing he felt his body would be more than capable of handling itself and his anger at Tom just wasn't the same anymore.

In that moment Harry supposed that the boy had been right and that they had in fact shared many similarities. On some level Harry identified with Tom in some way even if he had done some pretty evil things. To be honest, in this moment he was just looking forward to being done with this conversation and having some time alone.

"I did, however, want to thank you Harry," the man interrupted with all the sparkle returning to his eyes that their conversation had pushed away.

"Nothing but true loyalty towards myself could have called Fawkes to you. Don't know how happy that makes an old man like me."

The words almost surprised Harry; so much so that he had to put in extra effort not to upturn his nose at that.

Harry knew for a fact that it wasn't loyalty to Dumbledore that had called Fawkes to him. During that heated exchange with Tom, Harry had just pointed out the logical fact that Dumbledore was the most agreed-upon greatest wizard living.

He also had said anything that had come to him in an attempt to scare or delay Tom from hurting him. Also, wishing that someone like Dumbledore would come and save him did not mean that Harry felt particularly loyal to the man.

It was just common sense and a healthy measure of self-preservation.

But Harry didn't say any of this or make a facial expression that indicated he was less than pleased with what the man had said. Literally, Dumbledore had turned the conversation around to basically say that he was honored that Harry was loyal to him so that his bird could save him.

That was a little fucked up in Harry's mind. Shouldn't he have wanted his bird to help any student in danger and not just the ones loyal to him?

Unfortunately for Harry, that wasn't the end of the conversation. Dumbledore and him talked for a few more minutes on how alike Tom and him were. Dumbledore had then even brought up how they had been sorted into different houses because Harry had made the noble choice not to be sorted in Slytherin. The Headmaster even pointed out how only a true Gryffindor could have removed the sword from the hat in the first place.

Internally Harry wondered why the man was reinforcing the eternal conflict between Gryffindor and Slytherin like it was good versus evil. Even Harry, who may have really once believed that, could easily see a number of exceptions to that basic rule.

Hadn't Hagrid kept an extremely dangerous spider as a pet that honestly could have killed people? Or hadn't Lockhart once been a Ravenclaw? Even Snape had tried to save his life last year!

He noted the whole exchange as being rather odd but Dumbledore wasn't finished yet.

The man then went into this whole explanation about how Harry could speak Parseltongue because Voldemort had unintentionally transferred some of his own powers into him the night he killed his parents. Except that Dumbledore focused very little on how it had happened or what that even meant; shouldn't the man have been more concerned about a little bit of the Dark Lord being inside him?

Honestly, the more Harry was in Dumbledore's presence the more convinced he was that he would rather be in the same room with the Dark Lord. At least he knew where he stood with him; with Albus it was anybody's guess.

Finally Harry was granted the sweet relief of freedom when Dumbledore made plans to leave, citing a need to write a letter to get their Gamekeeper back from Azkaban.

In leaving, however, Dumbledore also gave Harry a bit of good news: there was going to be a feast later that night to celebrate the return of those who had been petrified since the Mandrake Restorative Draught had been given.

It was indeed an interesting bit of news and gave Harry something else to focus on as Dumbledore left. The Headmaster hadn't seemed to think that there was nothing more to Harry – and he had been using his senses as much as he could to see the man had cottoned on to him.

As a matter of fact, the only time where Harry detected something abnormal was when the Headmaster's pulse and breathing had picked up as he skirted around the issue of what the diary was and how Tom Riddle had managed to store a perfect copy of his past self away.

So it stood to reason that Harry would be able to return to the student body and not draw that much attention to himself, right? Because what he really wanted more than anything in this moment was to just explore the full extent of his new limits.

* * *

The feast had gone off without much of a hitch. Both Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed anything too abnormal with Harry's appearance. To that end, Harry played up the importance of Hermione's return and the fact that Ginny was alive as much as possible to avert attention from himself. The only thing was extremely difficult for Harry was how delicious everyone smelled. Even from his friends he got the whiff of delectable blood and it was with great difficulty that he sat there without doing anything about it.

Thankfully, when the feast was over and everyone had returned to their houses, Harry finally got a minute to be alone. Finally he had sometime to just privately reflect on things without worrying about Madam Pomfrey interrupting him in the hospital wing or any of the students noticing more than he wanted them to right away.

It felt great and Harry relished the absence of having to talk to anyone else. Of course, there wasn't exactly silence since Ron snored very loudly and it was so much worse because of how sensitive his hearing was.

Good thing that all of the Gryffindors sharing a room with Ron had made it a priority to learn the Noise Canceling Charm during their first week of their first year.

Harry leisurely withdrew his wand from his nightstand and made the same flick that he used practically every night; however, this time he noticed a problem with his magic.

He had gotten so accustomed to casting this particular spell that he barely had to put any thought into it. A simple wave of the wand and the correct pronunciation and he was all set. This time was a different matter entirely. It took Harry until the tenth try to even be able to feel any of his magic and even then it wasn't enough.

Finally, after focusing intently on his magic and guiding it through his wand with a good deal of effort was he able to erect the sound barrier that prevented Ron's unwanted sounds from getting through. The effort required felt very similar to the first time that he successfully cast it.

It was quite frustrating to be honest and Harry rightly wondered if his struggle with accessing his magic had anything to do with the change. He didn't want to admit it but it was more than likely that everything he had gained had come at a cost. Harry ruminated over recent events until he came to a very honest conclusion.

If gaining a clearer mind and increased senses had made it more challenging to access his magic than so be it. He had become sick of always feeling like he was on the cusp of understanding something that was just above his capabilities without actually breaking through.

Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't do magic anymore. It only required a bit more concentration; he hadn't lost it completely. It was then that Harry made a commitment to himself to apply himself better in all areas of his life. He would make up for any hardships with casting by sheer repetition and application of his other strengths.

As of this moment the old Harry Potter was dead; he was turning over a new leaf and he couldn't wait to meet the person that he became.

With that resolution Harry settled into bed to go to sleep. Only, as time went on he found that he couldn't sleep.

No amount of tossing or turning or keeping his eyes closed out of sheer spite caused him to become drowsy in the least. He felt just as well rested as when he had awoken in the hospital wing earlier that day, and now that he thought about it there wasn't a single instance since then where his energy levels had dropped.

Was this another thing that had changed in his life? Did he no longer require sleep now? With some effort – though easier than his previous attempt at magic – Harry cast a Tempus Charm and learned that it was four in the morning.

He kept tossing and turning for the next five minutes until a strange thought took hold in his mind. If everyone else in the castle was asleep than this was the perfect time for him to really see what his new abilities were.

Originally he had been prepared to wait until he returned to Privet Drive, but if he was unable to sleep than he might as well sneak out of the castle and do it now.

In a flash Harry was dressed and had his Invisibility Cloak draped around him. Next, he used all of his senses to ensure that he snuck out of both Gryffindor Tower and the castle without being detected.

It was invigorating and Harry never felt more alive. For the first time since he had woken up he felt like he didn't have to restrain any part of him. What started off as a run soon turned into a sprint.

However, not even Harry was prepared for just how fast he could go. Time itself seemed to slow down as he raced across the lawn and towards the path around the lake. Each step that he took spanned several meters and his eyes saw everything that could be seen, and what wasn't visible still found its way to Harry's ears if it made noise. Soon he was several miles from the castle.

He felt so in tune with his body and what he was capable of. For a moment Harry didn't think that anything could be more perfect, but then a similar aroma hit his nose.

It wasn't quite as enticing as how everyone's blood smelled in the castle but it was close enough. And boy did he want it.

The back of his throat erupted in hunger and his instincts drove him further towards that indescribable and heavenly scent.

The hunt was on and without thought or reason Harry pursued his prey deep into the woods. His senses told him that it was horse-like and full of enough blood to sate even his desire.

Each foot that he placed in the grass or each tree limb that he swung from moved him closer and closer to his target and, finally, in a small clearing Harry saw his prey. Being almost fully on autopilot Harry lept into the air, not even noticing that he had just jumped fifty feet into the air; his entire focus was on the Centaur who hadn't yet realized that his life was over.

Harry's lithe frame twisted in the air as his body began its downward trajectory and only at the last minute did the Centaur look up into the eyes of the one that would bring its death.

The Centaur put up a better fight than most could have but was still hopelessly outmatched against Harry's strength. Harry didn't even realize how strong he was or how his twelve year old body had effortlessly tackled the Centaur that had previously introduced itself as Bane.

All Harry could think of was the blood and without evening thinking about it his teeth bit down on Bane's neck. Harry drank and drank; so much blood poured into his mouth that at times he felt like he would choke on it. The sensation only spurred his hunger further and only when all the blood was gone and when he thought that he would explode did he release the limp and dead form.

Harry licked his lips and stumbled backwards; the blood was every bit as intoxicating as he hoped it would be. It was indescribable to be honest and the dull ache in the back of his throat that had bothered him since he had first noticed its existence with Madam Pomfrey was finally sated.

Slowly, Harry's mind returned to him and he looked upon the dead Centaur's body and honestly felt very little. Bane had not been friendly when Harry had met him the previous year and he wasn't about to feel guilty over the single greatest meal that he had ever had. Better someone like Bane than a Hogwarts' student.

Still, Harry felt like he should do something with the body and so he spent the next several minutes digging a grave. Again, Harry was completely surprised with how fast and efficient his body was. This more than made up for the extra concentration that magic now required.

At twelve he had overpowered something so much larger and stronger than him with ease. It was quite satisfying to know that the next time life put him in an unfortunate situation that he would be ready.

Once Bane was buried and the ground made to look like it had before, Harry turned and began walking towards the castle.

He was happy, strong, and ready to see just what he could become.

* * *

 **Reviews are appreciated.**


	4. The First Summer Part I

**A/N:**

Apologies for the delay. At the risk of sounding like a broken record if you follow any of my other stories, I try to write when I can but it's been hard finding time and motivation lately. Real life and all that.

 **Here is a disclaimer that unfortunately states that I do not own anything that I am writing about and am merely hoping to play in another author's sandbox for a short time and what follows is for entertainment purposes only**.

* * *

Harry consciously exhaled for the umpteenth time as his head rested against the glass window as the Hogwarts Express barreled down the tacks to London. Acting like he needed oxygen like everyone else was far more difficult than he had thought it would be. And not just because every inhalation of fresh air brought another wave of the tantalizing aroma that wafted off of his friends.

No, what was more annoying than resisting the urge to feed on the blood of those around him was the thought that for the rest of his life Harry would have to be constantly aware enough to perform an act that was so commonplace and necessary to merely existing that most humans never bothered to think about the simple act of breathing in and out. But now he needed to. Needed to act like he was just like them so that they didn't become suspicious of his new nature.

Because he didn't want to let anyone in on what had happened to him. At least, not until he knew exactly what it was that had made him stronger and more capable in almost every way.

And even then he wasn't sure that he would reveal the depths of his new abilities. But as he sat there, in their compartment, he knew that reaching that point of ultimate discovery was still a ways away.

Every day, it seemed, he was discovering some new thing that his body was now capable of. It was more awesome really.

Sure, eating in the traditional sense had become a tedious exercise of forcing spoonful after spoonful or dull, boring slop down his throat. Never once had he found that it did anything to quench the constant dryness in the back of his throat. Only blood could do that. Copious amount of hot, thick, crimson blood.

Just thinking about the feeling of the warm liquid coating the inside of his mouth was enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes drifted over the pulsing necks of his two best friends. So there was a downside to who he now was.

A minor one if he was being honest with himself, and he quickly shook his head of doing any harm to Ron or Hermione. Instead he focused on the positive side of things.

Like the sheer amount of potential strength and speed that his muscles had flowing through them. Or knowing that he could both see and hear far better and clearer than anyone had a right to.

That wasn't even the best part, though. What Harry had come to appreciate most about the change was the good it had done to his mind. His thoughts were so rapid and clear. And his memory! His ability to remember things had gone from decent to perfect recall. If he had wanted to he could have replayed every single moment since the time he had woken up in the infirmary.

This was just like discovering he was a wizard, only better. Now he would truly be able to carve out the future that he wanted for himself, and be better able to deal with all of the shit that had come with being the Boy Who Lived.

Plus, he would have the entire summer to adjust to his new body and his new abilities before returning to Hogwarts again. Harry would never have thought that he would have looked this forward to returning to the Dursley's. Times were a changing, however, and he was going to run with this new opportunity for all it was worth.

So naturally, Harry followed those thoughts into developing a todo list of sorts for what he wanted, no needed, to accomplish this summer. Of course, that hadn't taken very long. Not with how efficient his mind was now.

Therefore, aside from ignoring the aching thirst in the back of his throat Harry turned his attention on soaking up the last remaining hours he had with his friends.

Even if he had to remind himself several times that they were his friends and not food.

Harry was just thankful that not much conversation was required, since Hermione was still getting over the whole not being petrified thing and Ron was dealing with the existential crisis that came with almost being obliviated. Those types of ordeals necessitated less chitchat and more games of Exploding Snap. And eventually the train pulled into King's Cross station and the trio gathered their belongings and made for the platform. The usual goodbyes were said and the requisite promises were made to keep in touch through owl post, and then they went their separate ways.

Harry effortlessly pulled along his trunk and his eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam when he caught sight of the Dursleys. As usual they pretended that he simultaneously didn't exist and that he also was the biggest inconvenience in the world.

But Harry didn't care anymore with how they treated him – he just knew that this summer would be different. His days of living in fear of them were over.

A thought which had first put what Vernon thought to be an unnerving smile on Harry's face. However, twenty minutes later and on the car ride back to Privet Drive, Harry's smirk was still there.

"What are you so pleased about, boy?" Vernon barked from the front seat while glaring at him through the rear view mirror.

"Nothing," Harry replied as his grin widened. He was beyond thankful that the Dursleys did not smell appetizing in the least. Because pining over their blood would have been a very awkward thing, indeed. He didn't want them anywhere near his mouth.

He shuddered slightly with that thought, but never took his eyes off Vernon. Who, by the way, kept getting redder and redder the closer they got to home.

In fact, by the time they got to Privet Drive, Vernon looked ready to explode.

Petunia and Dudley immediately bolted inside the house upon parking in the garage while Harry took his time to collect his school items.

However, as he was walking towards the door to the kitchen Vernons arm reached in front of him, preventing him from leaving the garage.

Harry had been expecting his Uncle to pull something like this so he calmly set his trunk down and stared right back.

"Yes?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Vernon was practically shaking with rage.

"You listen here boy and you listen good," Vernon roared. "I will not tolerate your funny business this summer."

His plump finger shook menacingly in Harry's face.

"Any funny business, any whatsoever and you will be out of our home before you can even blink."

Vernon then smiled in that sickly way after proving his dominance, which in the past Harry immediately would have kowtowed to.

But not anymore.

"No," he said very matter-of-factly.

"No?" Vernon growled out, his face turning a lovely shade of purple.

"I'm going to stay out of your way and you are going to stay out of mine. You are also going to treat me with some modicum of respect – if you know what is good for you," Harry finished in a low voice but knowing perfectly well that Vernon had heard every word.

Then Vernon did something that he had never attempted before: he moved to slap Harry across the face.

Except that Harry was fast. Very fast. His hand shot up faster than Vernon's large eyes could follow and held Vernon's wrist in an iron-like grip.

From Vernon's point of view, one minute he had been swinging at his nephew's head and the next thing he knew he couldn't move his arm.

No matter how much he tried to wrest it free from Harry's fingers it just would not budge.

"I'm going to say this. One. More. Time." Harry annunciated very slowly.

He emphasized his words by applying more pressure to Vernon's wrist and angling it backwards so that Vernon cried out in pain and dropped to his knees.

Were Harry to apply any more force the man's arm would have snapped.

"Things are going to change around here, Uncle. You leave me alone and I will leave you alone. Believe me when I say you won't like having this discussion a second time."

Vernon started to whimper with the pain shooting up his arm.

"What in the devil are you doing, boy!" He cried out. "You're not supposed to use magic outside of school."

"But Uncle," his deadly and musical voice caused a wave of fear to crash over the elder Dursley, "I'm not using any magic."

With this Harry's smile became truly predatory and Vernon flinched. It had suddenly became very clear to Vernon Dursley that the power dynamics had fundamentally changed. He gulped like the large prey he was.

"I trust that you will inform Petunia and Dudley of our new understanding?"

Harry's green eyes shone with glee when Vernon nodded very quickly, his face putting his fear fully on display.

"Wonderful! "Harry smirked and released his grip, causing Vernon to role backwards, clenching his bruised wrist.

"I'm glad we had this little chat, Uncle," Harry said in a perfectly normal voice before picking up his school trunk again and leaving Vernon to question just how much his danger his family was in.

He would have sulked in the garage for longer but heaved himself upright; he needed to have a discussion with his wife and son as soon as possible. For all their sakes.

Harry, meanwhile, headed straight for his room. Once inside he set his trunk down and tried to get his emotions under control. It had been difficult, very difficult to not permanently injure his Uncle. While he had been surprised that Vernon had tried to hit him – a form of of abuse he had never experience before – his retaliation had felt right, good even.

He had enjoyed it. Enjoyed seeing the look of terror pass through the man's eyes and the stench of fear that penetrated the man's greasy pores. For a moment Vernon had feared for his life and Harry had seen it, had found satisfaction in it.

Was he evil now? Was he a danger to others?

'No' he shook that thought quickly from his head. Well, mostly from his head.

He was a danger – at least, he was capable of hurting others. But so were other people. Hell, anyone could be considered dangerous his improved and rational mind quickly provided.

It wasn't like he had sought Vernon out to bully him; he had been responding to a threat. 'Very effectively,' he added silently.

And he hadn't abused his newfound power either. He had responded to his Uncle's threat in an appropriate manner, one that was effective in making Vernon understand that it was in both the man and his family's best interest to live and let live.

He just wanted to be left alone and in return he would leave them alone. That was fair, wasn't it?

Actually, in the mere seconds that these thoughts took place inside his head, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had been more than justified in how he responded. He probably could have taken things further considering the ways his so-called family had abused and neglected him over the years.

His response had been kind even when he thought about it like that.

No longer worried about his morality Harry went through his trunk and prepared to go through the todo list he had made on the train.

First up was going through all of his books from first year. Given that he now remembered pretty much everything Harry was keen on extended that ability to his school work. And since he didn't require sleep Harry spent the entire night flipping through pages. He took only a single break to grab some food from the kitchen after the Dursleys had gone to bed.

Several hours later he took a second break to go outside and stretch his legs. At least one of the good things about living where they did was that he didn't have to go very far to be alone. A few miles and he was under the cover of a forest and truly able to be himself. He could run, he could jump, he could even test the limit of his strength. Harry had been wonderfully excited to know that he was able to lift a fallen tree over his head.

Plus, he could give into his hunger and feed. Only, he quickly learned after draining the deer that he had happened upon, not all sources of blood tasted the same. Even though the blood cooled the burning in the back of his throat, it hadn't satisfy him in the same way that the blood of the Centaur had.

Which was disappointing but probably for the best since he had felt slightly guilty over killing a sentient being. Though, as Harry began his journey back to Privet Drive, he could only wonder how a human tasted. Were they better or worse?

If judging by the smell had anything to do with it then he would have bet a few galleons on the former. Pushing aside whether or not he could stomach murder as he ticked off the last few miles home, Harry decided to cross that ethical dilemma when he got to it.

He returned to his room while the Dursleys were still asleep and continued his studies. Harry spent the next few days going through the same routine.

He would make an appearance at Breakfast, shovel down some food to avoid suspicion and then spend the day in his room finishing up year one and moving onto year two. Every time he finished one book he would close his eyes and meditate, holding his wand and trying to concentrate on feeling the magic flow through him again. Of course, he was careful not to actually use magic, just to make sure that it was ready to be summoned at a moment's notice. He couldn't very well enter his third year and suddenly have problems with casting spells. That would do no good at all if he wanted to avoid suspicion.

Then he would repeat his breakfast performance at dinner, becoming very happy to see that all three Dursleys kept their distance from him and didn't antagonize him in any way whatsoever.

His nights were spent in a similar manner except for when he would leave the residence and explore the nearby woods. Harry set out in different direction each time to avoid places where he had already been.

This went on for about a week until Harry finished reading through all of his previous material.

The next day Harry decided to cross out the next item on his todo list and that was to make a visit to Diagon Alley and get more reading material, hopefully uncovering the exact nature of his transformation in the process.

While he was tempted to simply make the journey into London by foot – since he found the sensation of running so similar to flying at top speed on his broom - Harry thought it would be more prudent to take public transportation.

It wasn't that horrible and it did give him more practice at swallowing back the thick liquid in his throat that came whenever the captivating smell of blood hit his nostrils. Again, the longer he spent resisting, the easier it became to not bite down on someone's neck and give into his urges. One thing that made it slightly more difficult to not focus on them, however, was with the looks that some people sent his way. Now, he knew that the change had slightly smoothed his skin or sharpened out his facial features but these alterations had been so minute that he was convinced that only he could notice them because of his increased senses.

But sometimes, and to Harry this was both ironic and awkward because he was twelve, but he could have sworn that there was a hunger in one or two of their eyes. What had they been staring at?

By the time he made it to The Leaky Cauldron he was both relieved and almost desensitized to their smell. Almost.

After entering the pub Harry quickly made his way to the back, wasting no time in tapping the required bricks with his wand to reveal Diagon Alley.

It was around mid-morning and there were only a few people milling about, and so Harry walked as quickly and non-suspiciously as he could to where Gringotts was located.

This was a test of sorts in Harry's mind since in the back of his mind he had wondered if the Goblins would notice or care over what he had become. Though, he had taken this chance since Dumbledore had not reacted differently to him and if he had remained undetected then then in his mind there was a low risk of anyone else cottoning on.

Still, his senses were running at maximum as he pushed open the door and headed into the bank. One step forward, then two steps, and since none of the goblins that lined the central walkway to the teller reacted abnormally to his presence by the thirtieth step, Harry likely concluded that his secret was safe.

Also, Harry made the mental note that goblins smelled horrible and were less appetizing than even the Dursleys had been – which was saying something.

By the time Harry reached the end he was mostly relaxed and proceeded with his mission.

"Hello, Harry Potter would like to be shown to his vault. Please," he added for good measure.

The scratching of the goblin's quill against the parchment did not slow as he responded.

"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"

Harry dangled the metal key in his hand and raised it.

"Yes."

"Very well, step aside and Ragnock will show you to your vault momentarily."

Harry did as instructed and twenty minutes later he left Gringotts with a healthy amount of gold tucked safely away in his extendable bag.

His first purchase was to get a new, feather-light and shrinkable trunk that had several compartments, each of which was the size of a small room.

Even though he didn't actually need a physical library on account of his eidetic memory, since he only needed to read something once to remember it, he did need a way to carry all of his planned purchases home since he couldn't very well come to Diagon Alley every day and simply read the books in the store. Making the back and forth commute would be a foolish waste of time and so he was more than willing to part with his galleons in exchange for the books that he would spend the rest of the summer reading.

It wasn't like he couldn't afford the several thousand galleons he parted with; with what remained in his trust vault and then in the larger Potter vault, he had more than enough to last him the rest of his life. It was crazy actually to think about how wealthy he was.

The clerk in Flourish & Blotts had been more than happy to assist him too, and didn't even consider it weird that someone so young would buy so many books. As soon as he had seen the amount of gold the boy possessed, the thought of the commission he would make completely overrode all other thoughts.

It was after dark when Harry selected his last book, paid for everything, and then left Diagon Alley. By this time he was less inclined on taking public transit back and more in the mindset that he could stop off in one of the secluded green areas and catch a deer or two for dinner. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and the burn in the back of his throat had gotten harder and harder to ignore as the day went on.

Still, it wasn't like Harry could simply risk exposure and race through the streets of London using his incredibly fast speeds – people would still be able to see him. So he started walking – knowing that he would get there when he got there. It wasn't like he would get tired, and if he did well it would be good to know that he his body had a limit.

Block after block passed in short order and though Harry walked by some people that smelled delicious he never once was seriously tempted to give into his thirst. Eventually, however, Harry's journey had him pass through one of the more seedier parts of London. Which he wouldn't have even noticed if not for a very bad Muggle that got in his way.

There he was, minding his own business, not doing anything to anyone when someone grabbed him from behind. Of course, he had heard the approaching steps but simply figured that someone was in a hurry to get someplace. Thus, he was mildly surprised and annoyed when said hands pulled him into a nearby alley way and shoved him against the brick wall.

Now, Harry could have easily prevented any part of that from happening but the disheveled man with grime on his face smelled delicious. So delicious in fact that Harry's eyes narrowed with a hungry look in his eyes.

His throat burned in agony and all he wanted to do was reach out and sink his lips on to the man's pulsating artery in his neck. It was so tempting and for a minute Harry was lost in his thoughts about what to do. It was right there in front of him, becoming more and more flushed with color as the man mistook his hunger for shock and fear.

Which excited him.

"Shh," the creepy man said.

"This will hurt less if you don't put up a fight."

The obviously drunk man – judging by his breath – leered at Harry.

"That's a good boy," his husky breath washed over Harry's face.

However, the moment the man moved to grab the front of Harry's trousers, Harry had come to a decision,.

His right hand moved like lightening to grab ahold of the man's throat while his left hand effortlessly used the man's own wayward arm to twist him around. Before the drunk even knew what had happened he was pushed onto his knees and his would-be target was now whispering in his ear.

"Shh," Harry's beautifully deadly voice brushed against his neck.

His hand moved from the man's neck to wrap around his mouth, applying just enough pressure to provide more access to his throat.

"Though, this will likely hurt regardless of whether you put up a fight. But you deserve it and your presence will not be missed."

Then Harry's teeth shot downward and his teeth quickly penetrated the man's skin. Mouthful after mouthful of the most exquisite thing that Harry had ever tasted filled his mouth.

He was so focused on lapping up each and every drop of that thick, red nectar that he paid no attention to the screams that died against his hand. It wasn't like anyone was nearby to hear them anyways.

Harry reached nirvana as his stomach protested the last little bits of blood that the drunk's slowly beating heart was delivering to his mouth. Soon, it was all gone and the body dropped to the ground.

"Well, I guess that answers whose blood is most delicious," Harry lamented as his sense returned to him and he fully began to realize that he had just taken a life.

Only, even though that he knew murder was wrong he couldn't find it in him to care all that much. That man would have violated him and had probably done that to someone just like him who hadn't been able to fight back. He had done a good thing as far as he was concerned.

At least that was what he told himself as he then thought what to do with the body, which was honestly a more pressing concern. It wasn't like he could simply leave the man where he was, not with his neck looking like that!

In the end, Harry just stored the body in his trunk and carried it with him as he made his way out of London. Once he made it to the country side, he dug a hole, buried the body and went on his way as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

And he returned home with no one the wiser while miles away another young boy was struggling to come to terms with being fifty years in the future.

* * *

 **Happy to know what you think!**


End file.
